mcckies

[mcckies]

Valentina hated the dark - she grew up in a city, in a place where there were streets lined with light and buildings and spotlights and the glow of the sunset over the beach… there was not a thing about Arcadia that was appealing to her in any way, shape or form. And this place had surely fucked with her in the past in more ways than one, but this was new. This hadn’t happened before - the sun never just not rose in the sky. 

Not a single part of her had wanted to leave the safety of the church, of her candlelit refuge where she could sew or read or cry herself to sleep in the cushion of her bed. But there was only so much food left in the church’s stock and she felt that it was for the best to save it for the children. She debated just starving for the evening, having sleep for dinner, but she wasn’t even sure if it was dinner - the timing was horrible and impossible without a functioning clock. And what was the deal with Them - did perpetual night make them always out, or did they have their own circadian rhythm they stuck to?

Regardless, she knew the diner had to have something spare, and she had her stomach set on some fruit, jams, breads, things that would be easy to eat in the dark and could keep her full for longer periods of time. Ten years spent in Hell Town didn’t mean she hadn’t picked up on survival skills over time. She had walked fast and navigated as much as she could, successful in her plight. Leandro had been with the kids downstairs, so when she heard a racket in amongst the pews, she assumed the worst. Valentina had her sheers, positioned by her hip as she inched closer to the heart of the church. She knew they were a primitive weapon against Them, but it still made her feel safe.

How relieved she was when it was a woman, who just needed a place of refuge in the dark. Normally, she’d be pissed that someone would waltz themselves in here in the middle of the night, but this was a perpetual night and these were not normal circumstances. She had no choice but to be civil. “Not the pastor, but I’ll still take a compliment,” she said, leaving the sheers behind on a pew as she moved closer, trying to see if she recognized her. “There’s spare blankets and stuff, somewhere. Or are you planning on waking up with a stiff back and neck?”

INT. THE CHURCH - ????

closed starter for @mcckies

How she had ended up here again was beyond her. Juliette was trying to make her way back to the boat and had been for how ever many hours now. She was still so uncertain as to what time of the day it was meant to be. The need to sleep pulled permanently at her but the fear of missing even just a sliver of sunlight kept her awake in spite of her exhaustion. Her resource gathering in the town had been somewhat affective, backpack full of enough food to last a few more days at least in the solitude of her boat.

The problem was that the layout of the town was nearly impossible to navigate without any light. Sometime she ventured out just past the last building only for the steady thudding of creature footstep to turn her around. There was just no feasible way for her to navigate the suffocating darkness that laid between the town and the dock without the certainty of getting lost and getting killed. She needed to regroup and rest, so maybe that's why she had entered the church. Once she was sure the door was shut, she felt around the dark room until she located the candle holder. From the back pocket of her pants she pulled a lighter and lit one of the candles before shrugging off her backpack and collapsing on one of the benches. She felt her eyes close and kept them shut, even as she heard footsteps enter the room.

"Sorry for the intrusion, hot pastor dude —I forget your name, I just really need somewhere to rest."

[mcckies]

Now that she was up close, now that there was a model that she could readily admire her handiwork on instead of the assumptions based on the measurements she took, she could also see the spots that needed some improvements. It’s not like this was a wedding or anything, that would require lots of tailoring and testing - just a simple nice shirt that could withstand the whole three events this town had year after year. Still, Valentina was surprised that this held up as much as it had - seeing Maverick in his other clothes, she half-expected him to just tear the sleeves off in favor of comfort. She’d give credit where it’s due.

“Aw, how sweet!” she smiled, giving a little twirl so that the ends of her dress could flutter a bit. Black seemed to be the right choice of the evening, seeing as how many people she saw that looked a bit too burlap-y for Valentina’s sake. But she loved compliments and would never turn one down. Though at his critique, she was alert - given her entire personality and temperament, one would assume someone like Valentina was horrible at taking criticism - and to an extent, she was - but this had to do with the craft in a different way. She must have taken in a seam when she shouldn’t have, or assumed his arms were smaller than they were. It was more than likely the latter, as she did take the careful time to measure. 

“I can fix it,” she mused, staring at the fabric. “Add a stripe along the underside or something, to give it an extra little flair. What’s your favorite color, Maverick? You strike me as like, a green or yellow kind of guy. You’re a gold, not a silver, I think, so something along that color palette would be so helpful.”

Mav knew he wasn't the fitting in type of guy. His stature meant almost always that he stuck out and could be singled out easily in a crowd. It was why he had almost never attended large group events unless forced to do as a work requirement. If he had to recall how many large scale events he had attended, Mav could probably count them all on one hand, starting with his army graduation dinner and ending with the current predicament he found himself in.

There had been no interest or curiosity for Mav to ever set foot in the settlement. Like oil to water he just knew that the lifestyle of the people that lived here and his didn't mix. No, he was much better suited for the quiet ranch left, and, when that couldn't be met, a shoebox in the clinic basement where the creaking of the waterpipes was a surefire lullaby. But Shaw had all but been summoned here which meant that Mav had to attend. While the doctor appeared to have improve massively since a tree had fallen on them, Mav still had reservations about their safety. He would never admit it but there was always a bit of fear that if he left them out of his sight long enough another tree would somehow spawn and crush them to death. And that wouldn't be very good for Mav. One, because he cared very much about Shaw's wellbeing. But two, because Jude was such a hard ass already, God forbid she wrung him out even more. Hell, a wet towel was shown more mercy from her temperament in that regards.

Although the list of benefits to attending was dastardly short, there was a certain name on there that also somehow outweighed the bad. See, Mav had ran out of excuses to run into the seamstress and although he was of the opinion that he stuck out like a sore thumb, she was well suited to events like this in his mind. He would have loved to be more prepared and composed when running into her, but the maze that was the settlement had a different idea. And so seeing her for the first time was a bolt from the blue.

Despite his best manners he found himself eyeing her up in appreciation. And her hand on his shoulder did nothing to alleviate the hammering of his heart. He cleared his throat. "Ya look... good too," he started, "as pretty as a pitc-shur." Though no photo would do her justice. "Though aah've to ask if ya made the inner seam of mah shirt tighter o-wn purpose? Aah can barely move mah arms." A pause. "Err ya enjoying yerself?"

[mcckies]

Makeup was a difficult thing to find here by and large, and when she did have it, Valentina savored it. Before, she’d be throwing out makeup once every six months, afraid of an expiration date or just by going through it so quickly, with a full face of makeup at all times, hair always poised - luckily, it stayed fairly straight on its own, maybe with a bit of a wave in it, and was always strong and long, but makeup was more difficult around here - least of all makeup that was in her shade. Luckily, between the gifts Ophelia bestowed to her and all of the stuff she stole from that rich lady who died about a month back, that psychiatrist with the nice clothes and all, she felt now was as good a time as ever to test it all. At least she’d know she looked better than everyone else here.

A small compact mirror was really all that could fit in the tiny handbag she had, and she dabbed a bit of gloss on her lips as she heard a voice from a man behind her. She had positioned herself against the wall somewhat, a quiet observer to all else going on. “About what?” Valentina asked, shutting the compact with a click and giving her full attention to the stranger - where else would she put it? “Spill, handsome, if there’s some sort of gossip in this place, I’d like to be one of the first ones to know.”

✶ 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 ; earlier at the party ✶ 𝐅𝐎𝐑 ; open

Parties were easy to get lost in. If there was one thing that Joel enjoyed more than unraveling in his paintings, it was getting the chance to fuck around with a pretty girl or two. He didn’t tend to linger for longer than a few hours with them, but just enough to enjoy himself, make them happy in some way, and effortlessly depart. No promises of another time, or even seeing each other again. Just live by the moment and enjoy it while it lasted. That was his defining romance, though he had often yearned for more. Granted their… death? upon entering Arcadia, all yearning of finding more became moot. “  How much of the rumors do you think are true?  ” he asked, taking a sip of his - whatever the fuck they put in the container - drink and turning towards his current partner in crime. He couldn’t be caught dead hanging around alone in that house of horrors.

[mcckies]

[mcckies]

[mcckies]

Fuck the talk about God’s house being for everyone - times were different here, and this was Valentina’s home still. She could tell she was grating on the woman’s nerves, and she didn’t care. If anything, it only made her feel more empowered. It was an ugly side to her, sure, and one that she didn’t unleash very often - in the last few years of living here, when Leandro and his children showed up, she made the conscious effort to be a little bit better, something that was a bit more of a role model as opposed to the straight up bitch she was before. 

But who was she kidding; it was only dormant, never truly gone.

“Condolences are just fine, thank you,” Valentina said, generosity dripping from her tone, the only thing to focus on instead of the woman’s words. Regardless of what she said, Valentina didn’t believe that if she didn’t walk in on her tugging at the curtains, she wouldn’t have let whatever was out there in. It was a very specific, very unique approach They had, one that had that delightful personal touch of hell with it. Still, after all these years, she saw Robbie, and had long since stopped seeing her family members after she began to wonder how they looked as they aged - their faces were faded with memory, and it’s not as if she had pictures with her to remind herself. Those remained on a phone that no longer worked, that was cracked from the accident anyway. “Are you done?” she asked, picking at the split ends in her hair while the woman complained. “Onto things that matter - someone hopefully gave you a rundown of how this place was? Or did you just not pay attention? Otherwise, I'll fill in the blanks.”

The longer Dilara listened to the girl speak, the more irritated she became. It was the same as talking to a child. A bratty, entitled, snob of a child, but she was far too grown to entertain and stoop down to her level. So while the girl went on and on complaining about something that could have easily happened to any one of them, and likely had to her too, Dilara couldn’t help but think back to the sound of her child’s voice. How sweet and innocent it had sounded, so close in tone to the evading sound of Emre’s, despite it coming from one of those things. It still left her curious to find out the source. Dee had a plethora of questions festering inside her mind. What did they look like? Was the smile as odd and sinister as others made it appear? And lastly, how powerful were they really? If they could so easily take over a person’s mind. 

She shivered, shaking herself back to the present interaction, and gave an exasperated sigh. “  Just because you feel entitled to a response does not mean that you’ll get one from me. I am not some little girl you can bully into compliance because you’ve been here ten years. Congratulations. Or would it be, my condolences, instead?  ” The entirety of this interaction was more draining than the town itself. Dilara had dealt with girls like this plenty of times in her lifetime. Growing up in the high society of New York meant she’d met plenty of versions of this girl. By Dilara’s age, it was more annoying than irritating. “  You deserve nothing as far as I’m concerned.  ”

[mcckies]

Valentina purposefully kept her busy around Arcadia in order to make sure she didn’t go completely insane. Some people would have decided that keeping busy meant keeping their bodies busy, their minds occupied with temporary bliss in the night - Valentina was not one of those people. For starters, and overriding just about anything else, she had high standards for herself. Secondly, this was a small town. And when she inevitably got bored, that was that. Besides, many of the people she’d ever consider any sort of relationship with were dead now.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t indulge in the basic pastime of ogling, especially when Maverick was involved. He was muscular in a way that made him look like one of her little brother’s old action figures, a GI Joe that made a wish to be a real man, popping up into Arcadia and doing some work around the ranch. They had struck up something of a flirtatious friendship for awhile now, and it was Maverick who had brought up the party at the Settlement. Valentina was still on edge, not entirely unconvinced the nightmares she was seeing before had something to do with the residents' collective voodoo of sorts.

Still, though, she was not going to turn down a party. Valentina only gave a coy I'll think about it when asked, but the opportunity to fashion a dress for herself was too good to pass up. Spaghetti strap A-line, all black, fit going from snug to a bit more flowing at the drop waist, only having enough fabric to end at her knees. "You look good," she spoke up, spotting Maverick turned around in one of the settlement's common areas. She ran her hand along his shoulder, admiring. "I did a good job." *// @maverickxbell

[mcckies]

“Do you?” Valentina asked, stepping forward, brows raised expectantly. The curtains were hanging loose, no flutters or cracks through the fabric to allow Them to see inside. Some of the windows were still stained glass, and it was a shame they couldn’t keep the curtains open all the time to revel in their glory. 

“Yes, but you don’t live here,” Valentina said. Though the woman’s tone was no longer upset, matching her own, Valentina was not one to back down. “So I don’t know who you are, and I deserve to know the person that almost killed me, now do I?” The eye roll that escaped her was palpable, even in the dim light. “I don’t think God’s in any hurry for a meet and greet.” Least of all with anyone in Arcadia. She looked the woman up and down, gaze steely and judgemental - it was too late, and she was too tired to even attempt to cover up her distaste. Though, she didn’t have much of an excuse when she wasn’t any of those things. 

“I don’t think either of us will care much how I spoke to you if we end up dead,” she stated, plainly, then sat on the pew closest to where she was standing, resigning herself to essentially be on guard duty tonight. “I’ve been here for ten years and I was woken up by a stranger, so if anyone’s being disrespected here–” She gestured over to the woman with a passive aggressive smile.

She pressed their lips to keep from apologizing once more and nodded her head in response. Dilara understood. This was all a trick on her mind - Emre was nowhere near here. Thank God. Taking a couple of deep breaths before she allowed herself to respond, Dilara pried her eyes away from the window, “I got it, alright?” She’s just never experienced this before. It was so fucking real she could still feel the goosebumps running down her arms. Her heart still pounding in her ears as if the answer to all stood just beyond the front door. 

It was easy to see the girl was upset, but the harsh tone used forced Dee to snap her face towards her. “I don’t owe you a response, nor do you decide where I choose to find shelter. Last I checked this was a church. My business stays between me and the good Lord above.” While she could easily understand being scared of a stranger opening the door when monsters waited beyond, Dilara was not about to let some little girl speak to her in such a manner. Nobody deserved to be spoken down to for a lapse in consciousness. Especially when the world outside was as screwed as this. What was she going to do? Open the door and kick her out? 

“It wasn’t my intention to put anyone in harm's way, nor was I opening the door. There’s no reason for you to be disrespectful.” 

[mcckies]

“Thanks!” Goodness, it was like this girl was raining compliments onto Valentina, and it made her decide then and there that she’d keep her around. She could remember having some girls in her grade follow around Valentina and her friends - well, follow maybe wasn’t right, but people who would copy trends they set, outfits, doing their makeup or hair in similar fashions, and every time Valentina would talk to one of them, they’d be flustered messes. It was probably a bad thing to feed the ego of a teenager like her, but she found herself in that similar mindset now, walking and talking with Rosa.

The church wasn’t too far away, and Valentina was a fast walker. She moved as if she still had purpose to her day, not in the ambling, directionless way others seemed to. In a way, she did anyway - she always had clothes to wash and fix, fabric to go and find, things to do while daylight was still around before the night fell, and it became impossible to do anything but plug her ears and try to sleep. After the nightmarish week or so where she kept seeing Robbie, she had gone back to her usual ministrations with a vengeance. “It’s not for everyone,” she said, but it was spoken with an air of betterment. It’s usually how she spoke about fashion, but she barely noticed anymore. The church was just ahead, she could see that back door that led to her “studio”. 

“I do now,” she said. “I didn’t for a long time, there was a seamstress before, but she passed away about five years ago and I took all of her stuff after. Now I just like to fix things up, make stuff extra from any fabrics or whatever I can find.” Some materials were a bit exotic, and difficult to sew with, but she was learning. It was the most annoying schooling she could think of, but it was effective. “I’m sure I have something in there somewhere that’ll catch your eye. I have a few racks of spare stuff.”

God - she even sounded like her. But Rosa could tell there was still a lightness in this version of Valentina that she had never gotten in her past. Something she never really enjoyed reflecting on. She had always been a one-track mind woman, attempting to steer down one path and never stray. Rosa could allow this girl into her life in some way, she reasoned, without constantly thinking of what hurt the most back home. “Hm. Yes, I hope so. You seem a - unique sort.” It was meant to be a compliment - Rosa had cracked a tiny, harmless grin as she’d said it, but she knew her tone could come across as… indifferent. Naturally so, it seemed to run through her veins more than anything else.

Raising a brow, Rosa couldn’t tell if she was threatened or impressed by Valentina’s skills of observation. It was usually her forte, and she enjoyed taking pieces of people and filing them away for later. For when she could use it - though she wouldn’t describe herself as manipulative, Rosa had always been selfish in putting herself first if she needed to. “I’ve never enjoyed fashion.” It was a broad statement, when in actuality, she’d just never gotten the hang of it. She’d never been comfortable in anything objectively feminine, but had never quite nailed a more androgynous style. Apparently, it was obvious. “Do you make a lot of stuff for the people here? If you can find me something I’d be comfortable in, I’d be thoroughly floored. And… grateful. I need something that’s - mine, here.”

[mcckies]

“Oh, the knife slipped,” Valentina said, as if that was the end-all answer to everything she had been told and witnessed by the girl this afternoon. But Charlie was someone who - while she’d never admit this, or say this to her face - had a pretty strong resolve about her. If something so trivial could result in something so traumatic, what did they say about the rest of them? Was it only a matter of time before the town sunk its teeth into Valentina? She’d be long overdue.

But in no way would she allow herself to think that way. She knew herself, she knew she had a strong resolve when necessary, and it was always necessary. This frantic routine she had been keeping up for years was her saving grace. “Yeah, through the door. There’s some homemade soap in there - it’s not top of the line, but it works enough.” As she watched Charlie leave, she sat there for a moment, sighing and thinking. Her fingers could make easy work of the fixing that needed to be done, so that when Charlie was finished she had a nice new glove waiting for her. But she couldn’t shake that feeling, that there was more to the injury, and wondered where else the town would infest itself in the future.

END THREAD.

If she focused all of her attention on her hand she could almost feel the flexion and contraction of her pinkie —a ghost sensation, one of her many hauntings in this town. It was different than Conor's spectral appearance: more a manifestation of the things that Charlie had given up by simply existing here than of the things that had been forcefully taken from her. Some days she wondered if the digit would grow back, if this town was so cruel as to keep her alive and whole, to hurt and kill her on its own terms.

"My knife slipped," she offered. My mind slipped. The nine years of this town had finally started to make craters from the fissures in her sanity. She wouldn't get into that with Valentina now. Maybe another day, maybe when she felt better (if better was even a real). The thought of a hot shower was the most enticing thing in the world and Charlie was quick to nod in thanks. "Thank you, and none taken, I know it will definitely make me feel better. Is it just through here?" She gestured towards a door.

[mcckies]

Valentina had been here a long time for someone so young. She felt many of the people that lasted through the years, the ones who had easily made this normal for themselves, were older and wiser, people that she could look up to. She didn't usually, her own pride believing that the only way to survive this place was the way that she came up with herself, but in this moment, she felt there was an understanding that passed between her and Shaw. Two people who have spent far too long in this limbo of existence, having seen more than the average person was equipped to handle.

The two of them were more advanced in their understanding of the new world than others. The idea of forceful amnesia seemed to be one of them, an idea most inviting.

"Alright," Valentina eyed them suspiciously, her tone suggesting she was expecting Shaw to follow up. What kind of ghost? Was it as personal as Valentina's own? Was this all some cruel trick of the past worming its way into the present? She snorted at their question. "I don't know, the only thing that seems to grow here is the population," she said, crossing her arms in front of her and wincing when the injured parts of her fingers brushed against skin. "But people don't bark."

This was a world rife with complication. Far too many years had passed, memories pressed far too deeply the folds of their mind, people lost to time and even their own minds. “I don’t blame you,” Shaw replied. Normalcy here only came in sputters, stretches of silence far too easily quelled by even a window accidentally left ajar or a visitor that knew nothing of Them, who pulled people into the dirt, but not before leaving a trail of blood in their wake. An appetite that could not be satiated and rested only as the sun drew upon them; only brightness could be repugnant to creatures who fed in the dark. 

At least Valentina had remained relatively unscathed. Among the few, still, who kept their heads at bay but Shaw knew that even the most resilient could be broken. It was starting now. Nightmares in a town already weaned by poison, was there simply no recourse but to simply live through them? To endure again? 

From their seat on the desk, they leaned further forward, elbows resting on the grain of the rough-hewn wood. Splinters of it bit against their skin, but it was a sensation that at least came familiar to the doctor. “N-No. No boy. But I see a ghost of my own.” How Shaw had thought, however incorrectly, that his would also be a memory that could be nailed and hammered shut. This town would not be nearly so merciful. “They all speak in riddles, then?” 

Their lips pressed together, gaze tracking the grain of the wood, how it had moved beneath the light. How it would not settle against eyes that had only gotten a fitful of rest. Moving. Always moving. “What keeps growing in this place?” They asked. The gears of their mind worked. Body at the cost of one’s life, the riddle had said. What else could be sacrificed beyond themselves? “In a place where hardly anything grows?”

[mcckies]

“I’m sure you could probably imagine, I don’t typically think about it.” The first night was horrible, and she was an inconsolable wreck after seeing her boyfriend torn to pieces by Them, the image that had burned into her eyes and had a nasty habit of returning when she least expected it - case and point, this last week. 

Even when trying to remember how Shaw looked back then, had her drawing a bit of a blank. She noticed in herself within the year after she arrived here, her cheeks had hollowed, an appetite that seemed permanently gone in this place and the effects of aging with stress. Now that she was approaching thirty, she was half-expecting strands of silver to line her blonde hair.

Valentina perked up when Shaw spoke again, the cadence similar to how Robbie spoke to her in her dream, but different. “Say that again—” But she had already imprinted it in her mind. “I grow until the day I die, You've seen me once, if you don't see me now you won't survive. That’s what he said to me— is this the same he? Are you seeing a boy with an eye missing, face all torn up?” She swallowed, remembering his unfriendly, bloody smile, teeth sharper than she ever remembered them being, unless it was just more of her grisly imagination at work. She wasn’t sitting anymore, but standing fully attentive as she waited for Shaw’s response. “So it’s a two part riddle?” She scoffed. “What am I, some kind of genius? I fucking hate this place.”

A nod. “Though it had been some time since then. Pardon me if I’m remembering incorrectly,” they added, but no longer made a move to elaborate on the details, almost a mutual kindness. The quietude of Shaw’s existence in town stretched over fifteen years came at the expense of horrible memories that occasionally pierced through them. Memories that demanded to be seen, still, like the shallow light of a fluorescent through a door left half-ajar. It was rare that they should invite themselves into those recollections, to let themselves be swallowed by the vivid images of it. Stark even to this day. 

Valentina’s face would be among them even if the memories they had shared over the years had proven scarce—not quite a matter of deliberate ignoring, just the tides of living. Still, she was enough of a fixture in town for the memory of her first night here to come back into the forefront of the doctor’s mind. Not that they would fault Valentina for forgetting. Here the malleability of memory was no longer a thing to be pathologized but rather to be accepted. So few of them had had their heads kept still. Memories of course would still be left forgotten. 

The next question, at least, had had a less invasive answer. No longer pulled to the past but tethered to a present that was just as unforgiving. “Leandro came to see me about it just earlier this morning, at the ranch. His children have suffered through the same thing. He had the other half of the riddle.” The answer still left unseen thought the thought of it pressed against the back of their throat. Shaw ignored the ways in which the ghost of their father had threatened with his butcher knife a third time as they took the fitfuls of nap on their desk, voice a blade against bone, “I reach but I never grab. I bark but never bite. You use my body at the cost of my life,” they recited, then. Let the words settle between them, “That’s what he told me.” 

[mcckies]

How convenient it was that the girl’s name was so close to one of nature’s most beautiful gifts. Valentina liked to use her red fabric fairly sparingly, saving it for herself to add that pop of color, the touch of her brand, to every piece she made for herself. The prom dress-turned accessories had been left behind today in favor of a more vibrant red, instead of the deep crimson they were. No headbands, flowers, bracelets - none of it. She had some she could spare, she was sure of it. 

She didn’t hear the mumbling, but when Rosa spoke again she smiled a bit to herself. “I’ve gotten that before,” she said. Sprinkles of other personalities, projecting onto her people from past lives that were missed - she wasn’t the only one, surely. “But in the end there’s only one truly me.”

“A little bit of both,” she said, with no inflection to he mean or teasing - just the pure honesty that exuded from her at all times. “Don’t take it personal, though,” Valentina said, over her shoulder. “I think everything around here is an eye sore. And by the way you had to stand up straighter when I pointed it out makes me think you agree with me, in some way. Fashion does a lot for confidence.”

As soon as Rosa noticed Valentina giving her a glance over with all the subtlety of a freight train blasting its fog horn, she felt herself suddenly attempt to adjust her posture. Rosa was good at brushing off any unwarranted or unwanted opinions, but there was a part of her that would always care about what others though. It was ingrained in her for as long as she could remember - a childhood of white, frilly dresses and knees dusted with the grime of a church pew. To be anything but perfection felt like a sudden additional eleventh commandment. 

“Oh.” Rosa wasn’t usually dopey, smart with her words and always thinking a minimum of ten steps ahead. But Valentina dragging her by the wrist still shocked her out of her walk down memory lane, stumbling momentarily over her feet to catch up. Even when she let go, Rosa could tell Valentina expected to be followed - she seemingly demanded attention without actually doing anything even remotely demanding. It was impressive. She’d always been a bit clumsy, gangly with the gate of a newborn deer since she’d reached puberty and had her first growth spurt - but she still tripped up, did a minor double take when Valentina properly introduced herself.

Against her own accord, Rosa couldn’t help but bark out a rather obnoxious laugh, paired with a delirious snort as a cherry on top. “Of course you are.” She mumbled, wiping at her face. Their proximity almost dredged over her like a wet blanket now. It was ridiculous, but Rosa couldn’t help but feel as if she was betraying her own Val back home - one she hadn’t spoken to in months. Probably never would ever again. Clearing her throat, she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her overalls, shaking her head quickly in apology. “Sorry - you remind me… a lot of someone back home. It’s - weird. Really weird.” Eye contact felt a bit daunting now, choosing instead to stare at her feet and the rock she kicked along their journey to Valentina’s. “I’ll take the help, though - and you can be honest with me. Are you really doing this out of the kindness of your own heart or is my outfit really that much of an eye sore?”

[mcckies]

That gave Valentina pause - the woman was right, she supposed. Last names certainly didn’t have to matter here at all. It’s not like it would come with questions of relations to others, or any importance in regards to identification. She could have totally lied just then, and nobody would have been able to prove her otherwise. Still, it was a part of herself, her identity, that it felt a disservice not to name herself when asked. Early on in her time here she was introducing herself with her middle name, worried she'd forget it. 

“That would be fantastic,” she sighed, more wistful than she expected herself to be in the moment. She couldn’t fathom the last time she got her nails done, purposefully looked nice to go anywhere. It’s not like there was any reason to get dolled up or date. But with the stress weighing on her shoulders the last few days, she would welcome some pampering with open arms. Selfishly, she thought of how wonderful it would be if a masseuse rolled in here tomorrow. 

Valentina eyed the woman at her next question. It's not like there was a reason to lie about her tenure (except to herself) or its hardships. Sometimes it was difficult to be reminded of that fact, though, especially from someone she just met. “Some people have been here even longer,” she responded, dully, before her voice softened a bit. She knew this stress and denial all too well. “It gets easier the quicker you accept and make your new normal. Trust me.”

Aside from the studio the other owned, she'd heard about the time she'd spent in this place so far - which had Ophelia's head spiral, but wasn't entirely the reason she was here. She needed... a breath of fresh air. Despite the short period of time she'd been here, Ophelia ached to talk to someone who wasn't so dull when it came to clothing. When the other extended her hand and introduced herself as Valentina, she eyed her hand just a fraction of second longer than what was considered 'normal'. She took it with her own manicured hand and gave a firm enough shake, she didn't back down or showed insecurity when it came to those - they were first impressions.

''Ophelia Hartling, not that last names matter. Not here.'' She'd figured that out soon enough. No one really knew about the Hartling company in town and it didn't matter. Money didn't mean shit here. Still holding Valentina's hand, she'd turned it over and ran her free hand over the girl's skin. ''If you ever need a manicure, I can help you out there. For your troubles. These hard working hands of yours need to be taken care of.'' Which brought her to bringing up the topic she barely dared to tread.

''Have you really,'' clearing her throat mid sentence and averting her eyes for a hot second, ''been here for ten years? Because...'' Ophelia's discomfort showed in her body language, retreating her hands from Valentina's to not seem like a creep, ''...that has to be a joke, right? Like, c'mon.'' Her gaze then moved to the altar, as if to talk to whatever higher deity was here. ''This prank has lasted long enough, it has been nearly two months for me - I'm ready to go back, okay? I've learned from my mistakes, I learned my lessons, and all that -'' she breathed a sigh, not being anything remotely to a believer, but now she was here anyways - ''Whoever managed to sync my best friend, all four of her daughters and me with night terrors last night ... ha-ha, it's been fun but cut the shit, alright?''

[mcckies]

She hummed a bit. Homeless-ish, she’d settle for that. You had to try to not have a roof over your head at night here; it was like the one town rule, essentially. And she couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard of anyone taking permanent refuge in the bar - as much as she liked to keep to herself and keep safe, Valentina was awfully nosy, and liked to keep track of who was who, and who was where in this place. Cementing herself as a figure in others’ lives, even in the small capacity she did. A lot can be learned about a person from the way they dress, even here.

“Oh, so you did that to yourself?” she said, her brows quirking up and finding herself unabashedly staring at her hand one more time. Her own fingers flexed, as if to subconsciously make sure they were still there. It’d be one thing if it was some hunting accident, or even just manual labor, but she used the active phrase cut. Charlie was lucky it was something that could just be fixed by stitches. “That’s probably for the best, but I had to at least be a little bit polite and offer,” she said, busying herself once more with the fabric. “Did I not say you could? Oops. But yeah, I’ll have to insist on that front. No offense; but you’ll feel better, I’m sure.”

As the attention shifted back to her, Charlie diverted her eyes to her feet as though she was analyzing her boots for sign of wear and tear. She began to think of the worst case situations, of waking up one night with her hands wrapped around Valentina's throat, or hacking at Leandro's limbs with a machete. Or worst yet, she imagined how easy it would be for Conor or the monsters to get her to set this place on fire and burn everyone alive. None of those options were appealing to see come to fruition, and so Charlie shook her head.

"Homeless-ish." An important distinction in her mind. She still had a roof over her head and safety at night. "I've just been staying at the bar. The storm made the radio station... well, it blew the door in and most of the windows and, yeah, just had to find somewhere else and the bar was safest." She kicked at her feet and then looked up at Valentina, not wanting her pity or to overstay her welcome. "I cut my own pinkie off, Val, so I think it's in the interest of everyone's safety if I just keep to myself for now." A pause and then, asking again, "It's okay if not, but I would really appreciate a shower."

[mcckies]

Valentina didn’t even flinch at the scream the woman let out. More than anything, she was just annoyed at the potential emergency that could have created; there was no room for her to be sympathetic whatsoever. Being the product of a mother and father who were known to be somewhat ruthless in their chosen fields, she was raised with a similar mentality. It wasn’t anything callous, not on purpose - but in a place like this, selfish tendencies were encouraged.

“That’s what They do,” she said, tone even and serious. Moments ago she was in peaceful slumber, now wide awake and unsure if she trusted the woman enough to go back to sleep and believe she wouldn’t endanger the rest of them. “Children live here. Does that mean you’re okay with potentially letting them die because of your mistake?” Harsh, sure, but Valentina stayed alive and relatively safe for ten years for a good reason. Being kind and nice to everyone got people killed.

Valentina stood in the threshold of the doorway, arms crossed and keeping an eye on her. “Who are you?” she asked, stepping forward, into the dim light of the church. “You don’t live here.” Thank god, or I’d be dead already.

Startled so abruptly that Dilara let out a scream, she turned to find a young blonde beside her who hadn’t been there a moment prior. It took only a moment more for her to realize what was happening. What the voice outside the church’s window could have been. What she was just about to do. “I’m so sorry.” she whispered, still in shock at the familiarity in which the voice outside had addressed her. How effortless it’d been at captivating her mind at its weakest moment. “I’m so sorry.” Dilara found herself repeating, glancing back to the window she’s almost just opened then down at her hands. 

There was a sense of powerlessness spreading through her system and before she knew it, Dilara was shaking with silent tears. She did such a good job at holding herself together that Dee didn’t notice the tears streaming down her face or the shakiness in her breath. Didn’t notice or simply didn’t care as she worked through the last few moments and the voice still ringing in her head. Mommy he’d called to her, and she simply went. 

“I didn’t- I don’t, I’m sorry. I-” she couldn’t form proper words and shook her head instead. Reaching for the pews behind her and slid down into the seat. “He’s not here. It wasn’t him. He’s not here. He’s home safe. He’s home safe. He’s home safe.” she spoke at a whisper, barely audible. Dee wrapped her arms around herself, trying her hardest to pull herself together. She almost forgot about the woman beside her, had she not turned to glance at the window again. “It sounded so real.”